Throughout the season of Lent, we’ve been thinking about questions, both in our liturgy and in the readings we’ve heard. In some of the stories, the questions have served to connect people, and deepen understanding. In other cases, questions were posed in order to trap or accuse. Some questions have been asked antagonistically, while others point to a sense of openness and curiosity.
The goal of our focus on questions in this season has been to invite us into deeper understanding, and to help us clarify our own beliefs. Throughout this time, we have been reminded that our own questions are welcome in this place, even when there are not clear or satisfactory answers. Throughout this time, we have been reminded that God is not threatened by our questions. We do not need to hide or muffle our questions so that God might not be offended or angry. No, our questions are welcome even when they are posed as accusations; even when we cry them out from the depths.
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The questions in today’s reading from the Gospel of John arise out of deep grief. Lazarus has died, which is cause for grief in itself. But more than that, before Lazarus died, his sisters reached out to Jesus to inform him of Lazarus’ illness, with the underlying expectation that Jesus would come to see him, and lay hands of healing on Lazarus as Jesus had done for so many others.
But though Jesus received the message, he did not go. Without Jesus there to make him well, Lazarus died.
When Jesus finally does decide to go to Bethany, Martha gets word and goes out to meet him. He doesn’t even make it to the door before the hurt and accusations come tumbling out. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” We can hear the pain and grief in Martha’s words; can hear the desperation to make sense of these awful circumstances.
And while Martha dutifully recites what she had been taught, that Lazarus would rise again in the resurrection on the last day, it all sounds a bit hollow and out-of-touch when faced with the immediacy of this loss. Yes, that’s something to hope for, but what about now? What’s the good news right now?
Jesus gives Martha the good news - comfort and assurance of his presence. Yes, the concept of “resurrection on the last day” is intangible, and vague. But Jesus isn’t. “Oh, Martha, it’s not just resurrection on the last day – I am the resurrection and the life, right here and now. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”
Jesus' promise is for us, too. Salvation and resurrection are not just some future things that will take place in eternity, beyond our understanding, beyond our present life. Salvation and resurrection are also about life now.
“Lord, if you had been here, fill-in-the-blank would not have happened.” Martha certainly captures the sigh, the question, the accusation that escapes many lips in times of difficulty. Lord, where were you? I prayed, I cried out to you. Couldn’t you do something? If you had been here, my spouse would not have died. If you had been here, I wouldn’t have lost my job. If you had been here, this relationship wouldn’t be so fractured. If you had been here, my loved one would not have gotten sick.
We bring our questions and grief, our hurt and our tears, and Jesus also responds to us with comfort and assurance. When we are faced with death and loss and pain, the one who is the resurrection and the life brings forth new life and points to God’s glory, even in the most unexpected times and places.
In these times of suffering, grief, and heartache, we see God’s glory in the love shown to us by the friends who gather around to console and care for us. We see God’s glory in the meal we share here, bread and wine, resurrection and life right here and now, that are given and shed for you. This new life comes to us not because of our perfect, confident faith; comes not because we don’t have any questions. No, this new life comes to us only through God’s love and grace.
When we cry out from the depths, we trust that God hears us. With eyes of faith, we look for new life, shrouded though it may be, and give thanks for the community of faith that helps unbind it and reveal it to us even in the midst of our grief. For the God who is the resurrection and the life, we give thanks and praise.
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